Every Now and Then
by csinyfan28
Summary: "She had been thinking about it for far too long, far too often. The name rang through her ears and suddenly, the air around her become harder to inhale and excruciatingly painful to exhale. But, in her own little way, she quietly joined in the sonic boom of celebration." – set after the series finale and a continuation of "Quarter to Three".
1. Chapter 1

**Every Now and Then**

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**One: Yesterday Once More**

She had been thinking about it for far too long, far too often.

She could still remember it as if it just happened twenty seconds ago. The scene was engraved in her head – a victim's name on a polished rock, erected in her memory like a monument. Shaking it off or forgetting about it would be ideal but the sound of the bullet haunted her during the darkest hours. To forget: sounds good. To forget: she wished she could. They say that time heals everything; but she's still waiting.

She took a step to the right as she reached over and grabbed a white, elongated, porcelain mug. All the other mugs were the same, but this one…this one was her favourite. The one that just magically caught her attention on her first day here – the one that had a small little crack on its edge.

In her profession, she had taken the lives of a few, yet every single time, she would feel the blood drain from her body. Feeling as if she was hung by her ankles and slit at the throat while the red plasma pooled out of her, every time she watched a body drop to the floor, pierced by her own bullet. She had taken something from Him, something He created. Did she have a right to do that? Was or is it really 'just part of the job'?

She thought long and hard but she honestly could not answer her own question - she didn't know. That night, was she trusting her guts or was she trying to protect Danny, Lindsay and herself? Perhaps it was her gut feeling but then again, as a forensic scientist – guts are messy and she didn't like messy. The replay of that night scared her immensely as she remembered coming home, shaking violently in her hot shower. But it had been nearly three weeks now and she'd come to the conclusion that maybe she _did_ do what was right, messy and all – protecting her coworkers. Protecting herself.

Opening the cupboard, she reached in to grab a bag of tea. She carefully examined the selections that were neatly placed before her eyes. The arrangement of tea boxes and coffees, so meticulously tidy, were organized alphabetically from left to right. It was obviously his doing and the faintest smile appeared on her face when she thought of how he would always replace the chamomile tea, as he knew it was her favorite. But as she reached for the box, its weight caused her to frown. _Empty_.

She paused before seeking out a different tea bag, lost in thought. Today, she'd almost had to live through it again. The grey haired, middle-aged man simply would not drop his weapon and would not comply with her orders. She was prepared and eyed her target in the chest. She was about to pull the trigger but then in a fraction of a second, he obeyed and the next thing she saw were his hands in the air. She remembered releasing a breath of relief, as she did not want to send him to the undiscovered country too.

Maybe it was just the nature of her profession, that she was expected to 'just put it behind her'. She couldn't help but think: did the others feel the same way when they fired a shot that ends a life? Was it only her empathetic ways that let the death tear her apart? Or was everyone else just keeping it inside of them, as it was mandatory they should see things objectively? All these questions remained unanswered and would remain so, she knew.

The treacherous 'what if' scenarios were playing in her head - what would happen if her name was plastered on the front page of the New York Times? _Detective __Murders__ Unarmed Man_. The public would go after her with equal force as they had with Kevin Hopkins. _He_ had asked how she was after what happened that night, but she agonized over her response, in the end providing him a dishonest answer. She really thought that her generic response would suffice but as the night turned into day, day turned into night and all over again, she wished he would ask her just once more. She would give him a different answer, tell him how she really felt about the whole situation. But she couldn't bring herself to bring it up – perhaps if she did, he would perceive it as an annoyance or irritation; therefore she decided just to keep it to herself.

She heard the elevator door chime as it signaled the arrival of one of her coworkers, or perhaps a potential visitor. As the metal doors separated, she heard the faintest sound of giggling and small talk from not one female voice but two. "Mac, lo…." She heard a familiar voice call out but was unable to hear the next few words that followed. It took her less than a second to figure out that the sweet voice belonged to Lindsay.

From the staff lounge, she continued to stand still by the counter with her mug as she placed the opened teabag into its depths. She leaned slightly inwards as she put the mug under the hot water spout, watching the steaming liquid descend into the emptiness as she pressed the button and continued to pick up broken words of their banter.

"Hey, Mac…" She heard Lindsay call out again and saw her wave him out of his office. She listened a little more attentively this time. Despite the unethical nature of eavesdropping, she couldn't help but allow her ears to collect what information they could from down the hall. She saw him walk out of his office but his emergence was not the one that immediately caught her attention. She briefly saw the figure topped with shoulder length blonde hair and without a second thought, she knew who it was.

"Christine, what….here?" She heard his broken question as he approached the blonde woman with the gentlest stride she had ever seen from him. The name rang through her ears and suddenly, the air around her become harder to inhale and excruciatingly painful to exhale.

The conversation came to a diminuendo and she could no longer hear anything. She turned her body slightly at an angle where she could see their mouths. From her slight experience in lip-reading, she could faintly make out that Christine had said, "_we bumped into each other at…._" as the blonde woman nodded towards Lindsay, which was followed by a slight wave of her left hand and, "…. _she saw…_". She focused her eyes slightly and between their gestures, movements and smiles, she could make out that Christine had added, "_her idea_".

Looping her arms through his, she saw her leaning in closer to him, whispering something in his ear. She watched him smile lightly at her words and saw him nod softly. What did she say to him? Why did such a small gesture cause such a wide smile to appear on Lindsay's face?

She watched the entire scene unfold as she gave her steaming tea a slow stir with the silver spoon. Everything, from the sly grin that plastered Lindsay's face to the petite woman signaling for her husband to come join her. Turning her head slightly, she saw Danny walking down the corridor with a manila file in hand and furrowed brows framing his face.

"What's up with the party over here?" She heard him say rather clearly as his voice echoed through the quiet place.

"Wait, hold on! Where's Jo?" Lindsay was calling her name and the sound of it caused her to pause. For the past three weeks, all she heard was _her_ name around the crime lab. It was always others asking Mac about her. How's Christine? How is she dealing with it now? Will Christine be visiting us soon? Everything from endearing questions of concern to supportive, sympathetic statements. It appeared, for the past three weeks, as if her own name had faded, wiped from their system. The only time she would hear it was when they needed something – advice, confirmation, a signature.

She saw the petite woman looking around the lab for her whereabouts. Automatically, her attention darted back to her tea, as she did not want to appear suspicious or even nosy. She would pretend that she knew nothing – knew nothing about Christine coming in, knew nothing about the accelerated volume down the hall, knew nothing about their conversations.

"Jo! Hey! There you are!"

"Hey, how's mama doing?" She asked with a smile plastered on her face as she stole a quick glance at how the slim fitting blouse hugged her slight bump.

"This little one is craving peanut butter but…."

"Lindsay, is it twins?" She cut her off suddenly without thinking twice about it. She knew she had news to share and she also knew it had nothing to do with her pregnancy.

"Oh no, no. Just one. I'm pretty sure… Listen, Jo."

"Got something good to share with me?" She said again, cutting her coworker off once more.

"Oh no, Jo- not me, but they do. Come!"

As Lindsay turned around to walk out of the lounge, her focus darted towards the forming crowd outside his office, which was slowly making its way down the corridor and into the conference room. She absentmindedly placed the mug down on the counter as she stared at the couple down the corridor. And with each step she took behind Lindsay, her smile got forcibly bigger, a little wider, and a little brighter. As she moved towards the forming crowd she asked, "Whoa, what did I miss?"

"Hey, what's going on?" she heard Adam ask as he approached her from behind.

She had her hands openly tucked into the tight pockets of her jeans as she turned to answer, "Hey! I have no idea. Let's see." Through her white, gritted, porcelain teeth, she was lying. Undoubtedly, she knew very well what was happening.

She looked at him carefully. He was clean-shaven with a dark, navy blue suit and his signature American flag pin. Nothing out of the ordinary but something made her look at him again just for a little longer. She noticed him eying the crowd around him; the crowd of coworkers – his friends, his family and the one he loves. With an intake of breath he began, "Alright, well since everybody is gathered."

A slight pause followed shortly afterwards as he looked at the eager, excited faces around him once more. She saw how he brought his hands together and how he rubbed his knuckles. "Wow, I never imagined this is how I would break the news."

His next gesture made her ache as her speculations were confirmed. She saw him take hold of her hand as he laced his fingers through hers. She bit the inside of her lip as she watched how he pulled her closer to him until their shoulders gently touched. He smiled widely as did the young, beautiful, blonde woman beside him. He announced confidently, "Well, I would like to say that Christine and I are engaged."

In a matter of seconds, the sound of thundering applause, laughter and cheering erupted and echoed within the glass impounds. She watched as the couple opened their arms and embraced the seemingly smiling faces.

"Congratulations, boss!" She heard Adam call out as he pulled the technician in for an embrace. "That is one _huge_ rock…." She heard again and smiled slightly at how his eyes widened.

"Well, I didn't exactly propose with a ring." He chuckled softly. He paused and then continued quickly afterwards, "I bought one just a few days ago. Lindsay's a great detective. You can all thank her for this surprise announcement!" He quipped as she saw him turn towards his fiancée with a smile.

As the days rolled onwards after his confession of love, she had learned to slowly digest their relationship and perhaps even learned to accept it. She thought she was getting good at it thinking, _it hurts a little less today than it did yesterday and the day befor_e. She wanted to be 'okay' with it and her goal was to feel nothing but happiness towards it. But when she heard those vulgar words escape from his lips, the pain was back to its original intensity as if she learned nothing. But suddenly, in her own little way, she quietly joined in the sonic boom of celebration.

She approached him carefully and through her lips, she trembled out his name, "Mac…" followed by a short intake of breath. She had learned the art of the pause- the silence in between that is so mysterious that to some, it may be haunting. Yes, she had learned the art of the pause where in between the exchange of information, she had time to collect her emotions. It was the miniscule second where she had the chance to push aside her own feelings to display another.

But as she stood there and allowed his words to invade her system, she had _mastered_ the art of the pause. She stood still with glistening eyes where she tried her best to swallow the choking, tight pocket of air that formed in her throat. She drew in a breath, a breath of courage that collected every false impression of happiness. She forced her body to convey the signature smile, the excitement, the sudden shake of clenched fists in the air as she exclaimed, "I'm _so happy_ for you. Congratulations!"

And of course, the upheaval of her arms to wrap around him would make the show appear seamless, as she added, "Wow, you're getting married. That's fantastic!"

She felt his own arms wrap around her as he pulled her close to him. The distance between them was now closed and instead of wishing she could stay like this forever, she felt something foreign. The embrace was not as inviting or welcoming as they had been before. It lacked something she could not explain. It was as if it was just two bodies coming together, touching and nothing more. She sighed brokenly and the faintest frown appeared on her face. She heard him say softly and excitedly in her ear, "Thank you. I can't believe it either – I'm getting married!" as he pulled away.

Her eyes inevitably looked into his but she forced herself to quickly look away to save herself. As he moved away to the right of her, she opened up her arms to embrace the slim, blonde woman in front of her. Christine's scent automatically invaded her; fresh with a hint of citrus. She had to suppress her feelings and choke them down to put on a jovial façade. Her embrace could not give away that she was haunted by some pathetic feeling of childish envy. She exclaimed excitedly but not mockingly, "Christine, congratulations! Have fun dealing with him!"

She heard Christine chuckle slightly and she felt her give a gentle squeeze as she said, "Thank you, Jo and I'm sure I will!"

"Well, Christine and I would like to thank you all for supporting us in this next chapter of our lives. But, I'm sure you all have something you need to do around here so, get to it!" She heard him say as he waved his hand in the air.

The crowd left the conference room with grins, smiling faces and excited laughter. She bit the inside of her lip and she tried to relax the tight pressure building up in her chest. She was the last one to set foot out of his office and before she closed his door from behind, she heard him ask, "Lunch?" She took the silence as an obvious reply of agreement. She could not see the scene that was unfolding behind her but she imagined what was happening. A warm embrace? Did he take her chin between his thumb and his index finger to kiss her lightly? Or maybe he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear while she smiled in delight at the sensation of his fingers brushing against her skin? She'd always wanted that…

Step by step, one foot in front of the other, she made her way back to the lounge where the white, porcelain mug was the only thing waiting for her. Here she was - standing in the room with her cup of mundane, black tea in hand. She commenced a slow stir with the silver spoon as she stared at the mellow brown liquid. _Stop, stop all of this, _she thought. Bringing the concoction to her lips, she took a large sip and instead of swallowing, she held the liquid in her mouth. She cringed slightly as the taste of surplus bitterness invaded her. She choked it down, feeling the incredibly sharp, pungent tang run down her tongue and into the confines of her throat.

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_**A:N/ Hey everyone! Haven't been writing in a while – hope you don't mind my absence! But, I'm back! This piece is a continuation of "Quarter to Three" but if you didn't read that, this story will still (hopefully) make sense. I have an idea of where I want this story to go but I have no idea how to get there! I update rather slowly also so please bare with me throughout this writing journey! **_

_**And much, much, MUCH thanks to UrbanMuse and her incredible editing skills – they are second to none! Thank you kindly for taking your time to do this! You are a gem! **_

_**As always, please give me some feedback to tell me any suggestions, comments and concerns. Every review makes me smile! Have a good one! Much love. **_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: **_**Seasons**_

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She eyed the tall glass and steel structure located at the end of the congested street just as a bead of sweat started to form by her hairline. Walking towards it the building after exiting the subway terminalstation, the humid afternoon heat made her unzip her jacket and tuck stray pieces of hair behind her ear. She was returning back to work after meeting up with her daughter for a quick lunch during her free period from school. As she walked towards the first of two cross walks, she saw how men rolleded up their cotton sleeves and how businesswomen pincheded their fitted column editors pants, wishing they had chosen a pencil skirt instead.

She saw how people walked out of Starbucks with iced coffees instead of steaming lattes and how kids walked around desperately licking their melting ice-cream cones. The weather had transitioned quickly; from this morning's cool breeze to the current hot and, humid afternoon. The first signs of summer were clearly evident as the streets glowed hotly with bursts of yellow. She should've checked the weather network this morning before she dressed like this. She instantly regretted buying a steaming tea and wearing a long sleeved shirt and a thin pleather jacket. The heat was making her headache more pronounced; a headache that had taken root earlier this morning, as _his_ words resonateded through her head.

As she stood by the edge of the cross walk, she squinted at the solid, pixelated red hand, waiting for it to turn into a white human figure. Suddenly, she lurched forward slightly as she felt something, someone, bump into her from behind. She turned around abruptly and saw a little boy who looked up at her with green, apologetic eyes that peered under the bill of his small Yankees hat. She noticed that his cheeks were flushed with sweat and he was breathing heavily. She crouched down to match his height and asked, "You okay, buddy?"

Before he had a chance to nod his little head, she heard a raised female voice call out, "Andrew! You have to hold Mommy's hand! Dand don't run away from me again, okay?"

The woman took the boy's hand in hers and pulled him slightly towards her. She saw that the woman had a worried, defensive expression etched on her face, afraid that her son was in danger talking to a complete stranger. But the fear vanished completely as she the woman stole a glance of at the shield, clipped comfortably on her belt at her hip. As she stood up from her crouching position, she heard the woman apologize, "I'm so sorry about little Andrew; he likes to press the crosswalk buttons and just bolts towards them."

"That's quite alright, ma'am. Andrew, you listen to mama, okay? New York's a very busy place!" She advised the little boy who nodded quickly and then rushed over to the pole, pressed the button with his tiny fingers and ran back to his mother.

The red hand now morphed into her desired white, human figure as it signaled for all pedestrians to commence walking. After she crossed behind the mother and her son, she walked to the second crosswalk and quickly jogged across it as she saw the red flashing hand appear. Another bead of sweat dribbled down the side of her face and she wiped it off with the back of her hand. She finally reached the building and opened the heavy glass doors, feeling utterly relieved when she felt the cool air embrace her hot skin. She let out an exhausted breath as she wiped the sweat off the bridge of her nose.

She used one of her stretchy, beaded bracelets to put up her hair in a low ponytail and then took off her pleather jacket and draped it over her arm. She heard the heavy metal doors open and stepped inside, standing in front of a few young technicians and a custodian who greeted her with a nod and soft smile. She reached over to press 34 and watched the circular button glow in an orange colour. As the doors opened to her floor, she stepped out and the familiar silence, blemished only bywith soft beeping, rang in her ears. She looked around: Adam was in the tech room, Lindsay was at the end of the hall in the lab, and _he_ wasn't sitting diligently at his desk to her right. She quickly remembered that he was out to lunch with his new fiancé. She sighed softly and commenced the routine walk to her office.

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Splashes of pink, purple, green and blues were dotted on her desk – everywhere from the manila case files to her computer monitor. Pens in blue, red, and blacks were scattered on papers instead of contained in their metal mesh holder. An empty coffee here, a tea cup there, a water bottle on her desk and another on the floor. Without a thought, she placed her white, paper cup on her desk, adding to the array of empty drink containers. She sat there and eyed the array of colours; as per usual, she had no enthusiasm to clean it up.

She unconsciously stared at her computer screen. She was obliged to type and file a report but her fingers remained in a neutral position on her keyboard. She couldn't get the sound out of her head. It sounded so vulgar, so vain; this three-worded phrase. She really didn't know why she couldn't get a hold on the situation. Or, did she not want to get a hold of it? Was she in a state of denial?

His words pulsated through her head like some broken vinyl record – repeating itself over and over and over again, but she had no control over the wretched tune. With each pound throb of her ascending headache, his words hammered pounded in her head, each time with more intensity than the last. His words, so intangible, but yet imbued with had the sickening ability to create a torture device for her heart, seizing it and constricting it so hard it was immediately drained of all blood, all source of life. '_I'm getting married._'

She reached to her right, took the mess of fanned out files and arranged it into a neat pile at the corner of her desk. Then without even realizing it, she took the blue pen to her left, the red one in front of her, the two black ones beside the red and placed them in a mesh penholder that had toppled over on its side.

And as she picked up, one by one, the crumpled neon post-its, her thoughts continued to wander. She thought of him as a thief who stole something from her. But, she couldn't find come up with any justification for her feelings of anger towards him because really, he was just living his life like he rightfully should. Perhaps she could just inject the venom of his words into her blood little by little, over time, until her body would become immune to its poison… so in the end, she wouldn't even care.

She bent over to collect the empty water bottle on the floor next to the foot of her desk and placed it in the garbage bin. She felt the pressure building up behind her eyes as if each saline sister threatened were challenging the others each other to a race down her face. She bit down on her lip, as she could not let a tear fall. She looked up to the ceiling and hoped that gravity would act forcefully against them, halting the race before it even began.

As she felt the moisture in her eyes dry slightly, she blinked carefully and let out a long sigh to regain her composure. She reached out and tore off an old post-it note from her computer screen. She looked to the left of the one she just tore off and tore that one off too. And then another one, and another and then another until there she only had two little notes stuck onto opposite sides of the screen. As she tossed them in her garbage bin, she heard a familiar voice pierce the silence of her office. She looked up quickly as she heard, "It looks like summer is here"

Her mouth hung slightly agape for a moment as she wondered why on earth he'd stopped by her office just to discuss the weather. But her surprise was quickly pushed aside by the stinging pressure that had built up behind her eyes moments ago as she'd thought of him. She finally answered, "Oh. Hi, Mac! Yeah, it's humid out there. I should've worn short-sleeves."

She continued looking at him, and for a brief second, she was felt stunned, with nothing more to say. It was rare of for her, as she was usually quick to respond and always had something to say whether prompted or not. She noticed his brows twitch slightly towards the middle as he moved towards her, eyeing her closely. She knew he had taken note of the slight redness and moisture in her eyes. With slight concern he asked, "Jo, you okay?"

Then she looked away, picked up a pen and placed it in the mesh container, allowing it to join the other pens. Quickly, she said, "Yeah, why?" A blatant lie, and she looked back at him again.

"Your eyes…"

"Oh, it's nothing. I was just overwhelmed by a really big, much needed, yawn. Or maybe it's just allergies." And there she was, lying again. She had been quite good at it lately and she could not decide if she was proud or if she was ashamed. Nonetheless, a smile accompanied her explanation as she wiped away the small tear at the corner of her right eye with the tip of her index finger. She sniffled a bit, emphasizing the other half of her lie that it's "just allergies".

She saw him lean over slightly towards her and for a brief moment, she felt her chest become unbearably tight. She allowed his smell to waft into her nostrils. Although tainted by the humidity from outside, his smell was comforting and somehow warm; the smell of a man.

He leaned even closer and her chest grew even tighter in response. She wasn't sure why she felt this way and she tried to hush the voice inside her head. Was she desperate? Was she just torturing herself? Was she just still numbly believing in something that's already proven false?_ Shhh, please be quiet!__  
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With his one arm reaching out, she was unsure what his intentions were but his eyes were not fixed on her but instead, they were fixed on something to her lefton her desk.

"Oh, apparently." He said with a soft smile as he handed her a little white sheet.

"Thank you." She replied quietly as she took it from him. The relationship between them was no different than a year ago. Handing her a tissue instead of giving her a supporting grip on her shoulder or even a hug during times when she was upset. She couldn't blame him; she'd just said it was a yawn or side affects of "just allergies". But even if she told him how she felt, he would've still handed her a tissue.

"Anyway, are you free tomorrow night?"

She allowed the question to ring through her once more, as she was slightly unsure as to why he was asking. She paused slightly and then answered, "Yeah, looks like it. Why, what's up?"

"Christine's cooking up something for all of us down at her place and she would love it if you joined."

She really, desperately regretted having said she was free. She wanted to find an adequate excuse that would allow her to bow out, to run away, to escape having to see them together. Her mind wandered through every corner, trying to find some plausible reason to reject his invitation. But the neurons behind her ears, those that were responsible for quick thinking, were strangled to death by his mere presence.

In her peripheral vision, she saw another figure appear behind Mac. With a file gripped between his hands, he asked hesitantly, "Oh sorry, am I interrupting anything?"

"Nope, just chatting, Sheldon. What have you got for me?" She asked as she reached out her hand, ready to accept his file.

"Something for Mac actually. I just need your signature." Sheldon said as he opened the file and handed it to him. She quickly retracted her hand and felt slightly embarrassed by his professional rejection. She saw him reach into his suit jacket to take out a silver pen. Taking the file in his hands, he signed it swiftly and then closed it immediately afterwards.

Both men nodded at each other and Sheldon was about to turn on his heels to exit her office but was stopped by Mac's invitation. She saw him turn slightly as he asked, "Sheldon, I was just telling Jo that Christine's cooking up something for us all at her place tomorrow night around 10. Are you and Camille free?"

"Yeah, we have nothing planned. That sounds great, I can't wait for Christine's shrimp Alfredo, my goodness." Sheldon praised as he held up his right hand with his index finger touching his thumb and his other three fingers sticking straight up, a symbol of sheer excellence. Then he tilted his head slightly and questioned, "Why so late, though?"

"The restaurant closes at 9 so she needs some time to prepare everything."

She looked at him carefully, still trying to think of an excuse no to go. Instead she asked, "You gonna help her?" It was the only thing she could think of and the only thing that she could toss out of her mouth off the top of her head. She looked away from him as she took a file on her desk to place into the cabinet across the room.

He leaned slightly on her desk and folded his arms

"She said she wants to single-handedly impress us so she said 'no' when I offered her a hand. It's also her way of saying 'thank-you' what the team did for her a few weeks ago."

Digressing again, she asked, "An hour, though. That's enough time?"

"I think she's got her sous-chef helping her out a bit."

The fact that he had an answer for just about every posed question made her slightly nervous as she still rummaged through her brain for a feasible excuse. She spotted a crumpled post-it on her desk, resting behind where he was leaning. She moved to pick it up and fidgeted with it in her hands all while letting out an understanding, "Ah…"

As she crumpled the pink post-it into a tiny, rigid ball she heard Sheldon call out, "Jo? You going?"

The room remained silent as they waited for a response. She looked at them for a fraction of a second and unconsciously started to play with the ring on her middle finger. Sliding it up to the knuckle and sliding it back down just to slide it back up to her knuckle again.

"Jo?"

She was stuck. More of those little neurons continued to momentarily commit cellular suicide and she decided to just forfeit. She shook her head quickly as if she hadn't heard their questions and said, "Oh. Yeah, I'll be there." After a millisecond's pause she added, "Of course, yeah! I'll see you guys there!"

She saw him uncross his arms and lean forward to stand upright. Turning around to face her with a slight smile on his face, he exclaimed, "That's great! Hopefully we won't have to do OT tomorrow night."

She nodded and smiled widely with her index finger intertwined with her middle she added, "Fingers crossed!"

Moving over to sit on her leather chair, she heard Sheldon note, "Hey Jo, your desk looks unnaturally…. Organized."

"Huh, he's right. But, it's a good thing though," Mac praised as he took a quick glance around the premises of her desk. He then quipped, "I'll be able to put a file on your desk without fear of it being consumed by neon."

She let out a soft chuckle, a quiet little laugh that allowed her porcelain teeth to show through as she peered up at them. Hearing them laugh afterwards made her add, "Oh, get out you two!"

As they exited her office, she grabbed her cube of post-it notes, localized found a random pen next to her and wrote: _Dinner._ _Christine & Mac._ _Tomorrow -10:00 pm_

Sighing, she stuck the green note onto the side of her iMac and gently pushed down on it with her index finger to secure it in place. She picked up the white, paper cup on her desk and drank the last cool sip of her tea. Her peanut-butter eyes focused on the post-it note and the green, paper square seemed to draw her in. The words captivated her. She thought about her life. How, little by little, she was slowly stepping into this strange phenomenon… In which the more she stayed the same, the more things around her seemed to change_._

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_**A/N: Holy moly, it took me more than a month to update. I sincerely apologize for my absence but you are more than welcome to blame exams and school. But guess what? I just graduated and I'll be off to Uni next year. However, I'll have time to write during the wonderful summer break! Hopefully...**_

_**And of course, big hugs and many thanks to the fantastic UrbanMuse who gave this chapter a much needed polish. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're absolutely wonderful! **_

_**I know my chapters are very, very slow but no worries, things will happen, revelations will be made, the plot will progress! I promise! (: Hope you enjoyed! Leave me with few words, telling me what you thought about this chapter! As always, your supported is very much appreciated.**_

_**Kindest Regards, **_

_**J. **_

1. "_Whether it was molecular murder or cellular suicide, they were unable to warn her of what was happening before they died_." – Lisa Genova, _Still Alice,_ 2007


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